


This One...Fucking...Guy

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: Drabbles and Ficlets from Prompts [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexuality, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Smut, Snarky Castiel, kind asshole Cas, mention of future sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 04:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14609514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: Everything is going wrong for Dean, and the person responsible for ruining his day every damn day is gonna go down. Not today, but...soon.





	This One...Fucking...Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ozonecologne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozonecologne/gifts).



> Prompt: I could use a pick-me-up fic. College AU, enemies to lovers??? If you want??????  
> \- [ozonecologne](http://www.ozonecologne.tumblr.com)
> 
> Rebloggable version [here](http://prettymessedupsituation.tumblr.com/post/173776806613/i-could-use-a-pick-me-up-fic-college-au-enemies).

It wasn’t gonna happen today. Not today.  
Three weeks left in the semester, and he… _that guy_. That  _one_  guy.

But not today.

Dean pulled through the rows of parking spots, trying to find an open one. He was gonna get one in front of the hall today. There would be no running a mile so he wouldn’t be late for class. He wouldn’t be locked out and have to grab notes from someone. He wouldn’t be rushing up the stairs and trip and fall and need stitches. Again.

As soon as he spotted an open parking space, Dean’s entire body tension released. His smile made an appearance that had become rare. As he approached the space, before he turned on his blinker, a baby blue Chevy Spark zoomed into his spot. Again.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled as he punched the steering wheel. “You know what? No.” He put his car into park in the middle of the row, turned off the ignition, and got out. “Hey!” Dean yelled at the guy. “Douchebag!”

The guy got out of his car and faced Dean with a smile. “Yes? How can I help you?”

“You can get out of my parking spot, for one,” Dean said. He leaned back on his car with his arms crossed. “Every day. Every day I go looking for a spot, and as soon as I find one - usually the only one in this entire lot - you show up. You and your…your little…is that even a car?”

“It’s a car,” the guy said. “And maybe if you didn’t have to fill up your gas tank twice a day you’d be early and get a spot.” He grinned and started to walk toward the hall. He paused and looked back at Dean. “Better hurry. Professor locks the door at 9 sharp.”

Dean’s mouth was gaped open. He watched this dickhead walk into the building without a care in the world, flipping Dean the bird, until someone honked their horn. Dean waved apologetically. He got in his car, fuming, and drove a half mile away to the nearest parking lot that had open spaces.

It was 8:56. Dean took off running toward Sturm Hall. He slipped through the door just before the professor locked them and went to grab the seat he sat in every day at the beginning of the semester - until the day that guy decided to sit there. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“That motherfucker,” Dean whispered to himself. Yet again, the dark-haired tiny car driving bastard was in his spot.

“Take a seat, Mr. Winchester,” the professor said as he moved to the front of the lecture hall.

“Yes, sir.” Dean glared at the back of the prick’s head as he slid next to the white dude in dreads who smelled like the dumpster of a frat house after a four day weekend. As if he could feel the eyes burning in the back of his head, the dark-haired shitdick turned around and smiled.

“You made it,” he mouthed. Then he gave a thumbs up.

A fucking thumbs up.

Dean was seething.

It was like  _Groundhog Day_. Every day, Dean tried to get a parking spot. No matter what time he left the apartment, he always arrived just in time for that fucko to take his parking spot, which set the disastrous pace for the day. He was in his seat in any class they had together. He was ahead of him in line at the dining hall and got the last piece of pie - not once, not twice, but at least five times. Dean walked around with his entire body tense, his days ruined before they began, and all of it was because of one guy.

Friday morning, he decided it was enough.

He set his alarm for 6am. He got coffee and donuts and sat in the parking lot. There were only two other cars sitting in the entire lot. Dean smiled and relaxed. At least he had a spot. He ate a donut and drank his coffee, but as the hour passed, he started to drift.

Dean woke up at 9:30 to  _that guy_  tapping on his window. Dean jolted up and looked around at the near-empty parking lot.

“Hey,” the guy said, waiting for Dean to get his bearings. “Class was canceled. Did you not get the email?”

Dean looked at his phone. The email was sent at 8, which must have been around the time he fell asleep. “Son of a bitch!” he muttered. His jaw hurt from how hard he clenched it. He thought he’d won for once. Dean sighed and decided to call it a wash. He pulled his phone out to check what bars had something going on that night. Only alcohol could save him from this stupid fucking repetitive bullshit, preferably in large amounts. And maybe a hot girl. Or guy.

Asbury Tavern was packed when he arrived at 11 after hitting a few surrounding bars with his roommate and a few acquaintances. Once he got in and waded through all the people to the bar, Dean ordered a beer and sat for a few minutes to relax. Finals were approaching, and all the bullshit with the parking spot and the pie was pulling too much of his energy. He needed to relax and refocus. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a beefy guy he had talked to a few times before Spring Break. He was talking to someone, face lit up with a red-cheeked alcohol-induced enthusiasm under his beard. Dean smiled and felt his face flush, embarrassed that seeing this random dude made him grin. The crowd shifted. At that moment, Dean saw who the guy he was eyeing was talking to.

“Not fucking happening,” he said. “No.” He shook his head, chugged his beer, slammed the empty glass on the bar, and got up. As he approached the dark-haired guy, who was admittedly pretty hot, he realized how angry he must have looked. He tried to tone it down, look cool and relaxed for the blushing guy’s sake. _What was his name?_  Dean wondered, trying to remember if they’d even exchanged names, let alone numbers. He composed himself, but felt the rage surge back when the parking spot/seat/pie/hookup-stealer spoke.

“Hey! It’s you!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Can I talk to you for a second? Outside?” Dean asked. He felt like he was on autopilot, unsure of what the part of him that was controlling actions and words would do next.

“Uh, sure. Benny, I’ll be right back. Dean seems to have an issue,” the guy said.

“How do you - nevermind.” Dean turned and pushed his way through the mass of people and found a spot on a wall outside that was unoccupied where he might be heard.

“I’m Cas, by the way,” the dark-haired guy said.

“Hi, Cas. What the fuck?” Dean asked.

“What do you mean?” Cas asked innocently.

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “What do I mean? Dude. The parking spot. My seat. Always taking the last piece of pie in the dining hall. And now you’re talking to Benny? How are you always there? How are you always there just before me?”

Cas chuckled. “I don’t try to be,” he said, choking down laughter. “Well. Sometimes I do,” he admitted, pushing the humor of the situation down to be a little more serious. “The seat thing? At first, I was trying to sit  _next_  to you.”

Dean crossed his arms and shook his head slightly. “What?”

“I didn’t realize I’d taken your seat. I used to sit in the back, and after a while, I realized I wanted to get to know you. So after that one kid that always wore the hoodie dropped the class, I moved closer. Apparently too close, because you just disappeared. I didn’t want to look like an ass, so I just stayed.”

Dean straightened himself up. “And the pie?” he asked, with a tone that made it sound as if this was the worst offense.

“I give it to people who look sad,” Cas said. “It’s getting near the end of the semester and people are stressed out.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What’s the deal with the parking lot bullshit?”

“Hey, you bring that one on yourself, buddy,” Cas said.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry if the dining hall doesn’t have enough pie, and I’m sorry I took your seat in class. You can have it back. But the parking lot? You drive that behemoth of a thing around and expect to find easy parking on a college campus? Get a fucking bike. Ask for a ride. There’s limited parking as it is, and you driving that car is you failing to grasp any concept of efficiency.”

“Are you done?” Dean asked, his jaw clenching again.

Cas shook his head. “No. While we’re at it, maybe show up 15 minutes early and you wouldn’t have that problem.”

“I tried that! You saw!”

“Yeah, on a day we didn’t have class,” Cas said. “If you weren’t such a dick and felt the need to show me up somehow by getting a parking spot, and if you just planned to arrive 15 minutes early like a normal person, you would have known class was cancelled.” Cas huffed and put his hands on his hips. “Tell me this, Dean - do you pay attention to anything other than yourself?”

Dean’s mind was working furiously, but he couldn’t seem to process this information. “I need another beer.”

“And how is Benny any part of this? Did you guys used to date?”

Dean took a few seconds too long to answer, then finally mumbled, “…no. Not really.”

“Then what is your problem?” Cas asked. “It seems to me he’s a free agent, and that you’re a self absorbed prick who needs to get over himself.”

Dean took a step back.

“Would you have even known his name if I hadn’t said it?” Cas looked at Dean so intensely it burned shame into him. He dropped his head, defeated. “That is  _exactly_ what I thought.” Cas pushed past him and went back into the bar.

Dean went home.

* * *

After his last final, Dean packed up his things and put them into his car. He didn’t have a place to go for the summer since he had no home. He figured maybe he’d drive somewhere new until the fall, maybe meet up with his brother who had an off-campus apartment with friends near Stanford. He’d sleep in the car or whatever crappy motel he could find along the way. Things would be fine; he always tried to make the best out of whatever he had.

Carrying down his last box, he passed Cas on the stairs. The two stared at each other for a moment as if they wished the other would say something that would warrant a punch to the face. Dean walked out the front door and over to his car - the only place he could call home. The box barely fit in the crowded backseat along with his clothes and other belongings; he wanted to keep the passenger seat free, just in case.

As a send off, Dean, his roommate, and a couple of his roommate’s friends went out for a few drinks, but they all had to turn in early for plane flights and road trips the next morning. Dean on the other hand had all the time in the world. They said their goodbyes and Dean was left in the five-person corner booth at the pub alone. He ordered another beer and thought on the route he’d take west.

By the time his glass was empty, Dean was feeling a little hungry. He checked his watch. There was still half an hour before the kitchen closed. He flipped over the laminated menu and a bacon double cheeseburger immediately caught his eye.

“Can I get you anything else?” a voice asked.

“Yeah, can I get -” Dean looked up and saw Cas standing at his table holding a pad and pen. “Damn it.”

“Yeah. Let’s just get through this. I don’t want any trouble,” Cas said.

“You’re…not gonna spit in my food, are you?” Dean asked.

“Of course not,” Cas said. Dean gave him an unbelieving look. Cas rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll restrain myself.”

Dean ordered his burger and another beer. He tried not to stare, but after a few minutes he caught himself watching Cas as he walked around, waiting on drunk twenty-somethings. Another beer later, and he was musing about how that asshole was kinda hot. He had sex hair, which was intriguing. Thick thighs and great arms. Intense stare….

“Anything else, or are you ready for the check?”

Dean sat up and blinked. “I think I zoned out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, I think you’re good,” Cas said. He put the check down, but Dean waved him back.

“Wait. Here. Just take this -” he said, handing Cas a card.

“Want me to call you a cab?” Cas asked.

“Why? I have nowhere to go. I’ll just sleep in my car,” Dean said.

Cas’s brow furrowed. He started to walk away and stopped himself, twice. “I’ll be right back with your card. Just…stay here.”

Dean sat quietly until Cas returned with his card. He gave him a decent tip after thinking about it for a few minutes. “Here. I was  _nice_  and  _thoughtful_.”

“Come with me,” Cas said. Dean hesitated and looked Cas up and down, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t be a dick, just come with me.” Cas pulled him up out of the booth and led him to a seat at the bar. “Sit here, I’ll get you another beer. We close in forty minutes and last call is in ten anyway.”

“What? Why?” Dean asked.

“Because…because.” Cas said. He angrily dried a glass with his towel and pulled a pint for Dean. “Nurse this,” he ordered. “Sip it like it’s whiskey.” He also poured a glass of water and a Coke. “Trifecta. Alcohol, hydrate, caffeinate. I’d rather you drink just the water and the soda, so skip the beer if you feel so inclined. But do what you want.”

Dean drank the water and the Coke, but only got halfway through the beer before he put his head down on the bar and fell asleep.

* * *

The ceiling fan made a _click click click_  that was annoying the piss out of him. And he had to pee. Dean squinted one eye tightly shut and cracked the other just enough to figure out where he was. There was the ceiling fan above him, which didn’t give him any clues. He turned his head a little and surveyed the room. He recognized nothing. It wasn’t a shitty motel; it was definitely someone’s place. He was on a couch and not in a bed, which was a bit of a relief. Dean took a deep breath and sat up on the couch, taking a minute for his head to settle before he stood up.

“Hello?” Dean walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Nobody. He walked down the hall and opened the first door, which was the bathroom. He made the quick detour before continuing to look for whoever’s place this was. In the bedroom, the bed was made. Dean was at a loss. He made his way back to the kitchen and found coffee in the carafe. He felt it with the back of his hand. It was still warm.

Rifling through the cabinets in the kitchen, Dean found a mug and poured himself a cup. He stood in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. Where the fuck was he? There weren’t any pictures on the walls. As he drank his coffee, he picked up the newspaper from the small dining table and glanced over the headlines. By the time he found himself engrossed in the comics and quietly chuckling about Pickles, he heard keys jangling at the door.

“You’re awake,” Cas said. “I used some of the ridiculous tip you left me last night to get donuts.”

“Uh…hey. Yeah. This is your place,” Dean said.  

Cas dropped the bag of donuts on the counter. “Yup. Guessing you remember nothing.”

“Funny story, I don’t remember a thing,” Dean said, faking a laugh.

“I felt bad for you when you said you’d sleep in your car, you fell asleep on the bar, I put you on my couch, you said I was hot and if I wasn’t such a prick you’d ask me to fuck you, and you passed out.” Cas crossed his arms, looked up at the ceiling, and hummed as if he was forgetting something. His eyes suddenly bore into Dean’s so intensely Dean froze, waiting to hear something awful. “Nope. That was it. You can leave whenever.”

Dean placed his coffee mug on the counter. “Uh, out of curiosity, how much tip did I leave you last night?”

“Sixty bucks,” Cas said. He reached into the bag and pulled out a donut with chocolate frosting and sprinkles. “Figured it was enough to be your driver and give you a couch for the evening.” He took a bite of donut and moaned while he chewed. “Where are you headed?”

“My baby brother’s. Maybe. He goes to Stanford.”

“You have a job for the summer?”

“Nope,” Dean said, turning his mug in circle.

Cas sighed. “Place to stay?”

Dean laughed. “Nope.” The bag of donuts slid across the counter, stopping a few inches from his mug.

“You’re…making this hard for me,” Cas said.

“Listen, I’m not a charity case. You’re obviously torn. You hate me. You think I’m a dick, which I sometimes am, but you’re a…helper. You help people.” Cas tried to say something, but Dean held up his hand. “I get it. You don’t have to be nice to me. You’ve done plenty, and I appreciate it. I’m gonna grab one more cup of coffee, a donut…” Dean looked into the bag. “…make that two donuts, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to leave,” Cas said. He opened the cabinet next to Dean’s head, grabbed a mug, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Cas. I’m leaving. You don’t need to save me. I’m not…some dog sitting in a shelter waiting to be adopted.”

Cas stirred his coffee slowly. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?”

He set his spoon across the top of his mug and turned to Dean. “I said, ‘shut the fuck up’.”

Dean stared back blankly.

“I’m not trying to save you,” Cas said with a shrug. “So shut the fuck up.”

 

This wasn’t gonna happen today. Not today.  
Summer vacation just started, and he… _this guy_. This  _one_  guy....  
Not today.

Okay.

_Maybe_ today.

Maybe it was the smug look on his face. Maybe it was his confidence, or that something in his eyes that was begging for a fight. All Dean knew was he almost got burned by the coffee when they knocked their mugs over in the moment that followed.

Did he move in first or was it Cas? He wasn’t sure. But the sensations from Cas’s scruff brushing against him and his breath rolling over his skin before Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s neck there in the kitchen made his stomach go practically leap into his throat. His fingers wrapped around Cas’s bicep, grasped at his back, tugged at his hair.

Fuck the parking, his seat, the pie, or the dude whose name he forgot again. He’d take donuts, beard burn, hot coffee soaking the ass of his jeans, and the angry sex that was to come every damn day for the rest of the summer.

Or, maybe longer. He’d take this, whatever this was, for as long as it lasted.


End file.
